Mirrored Cuts

Chapter 52

They came running, probably thinking how lucky it was that we had crashed so close to campus, lucky that someone with skills could do something for the victims immediately. I watched them race, in all their blue glory down Morewood and onto Fifth where we were holding up traffic. I saw them slow when they recognized John's car, and again when they recognized me. It was Sandy, Carl and Ruby, the holy trinity come to witness my sin. I felt a rush of blood to my head blot out all but one thought. I had failed. They opened the doors and pulled us out. I recognized their technique, analyzing it for mistakes. I should have been thankful that I had something to distract me. Instead, I found myself hyper conscious of my every action.

"Andi, can you hear me?" Ruby sternal rubbed me. I wanted to punch her to get her to stop but I couldn't move my arm more than a few inches.

I nodded.

"Don't move too much," she said. "You know the drill, c-spine precautions."

Of course. I knew the drill. How many times had I practiced the exact trauma exam she was performing right now?

"John?" I said, trying to catch her eye, catch an honest glimpse.

"Sandy's got him."

"I'm so sorry," I began to cry as the reality of situation crashed over me, shattering my previously eerie calm. I had failed as an EMT. I was the one being taken care of again. My father would never respect someone who needed help like I did.

* * *

The doctors say that I was very lucky, that if I had been a few inches over, the car door would have collapsed on me, breaking the bones in the right side of my body. As it were, I only ended up with a concussion. Granted, the worst thing you can get as someone struggling with school is a concussion, but I guess I was thankful that I hadn't ended up half-broken.

Revelations are not meant for the road.

They told me to relax, to spend a lot of time with the lights off, not to use my phone or computer too much. I told them I would die if I spent my time disconnected from everyone else in the dark. They thought I was addicted to technology. That wasn't what I had been trying to tell them. When I asked how John was, they said that he was unhurt, just a little shaken up. He had been sleeping in the lobby since he had been discharged almost twelve hours earlier. And the car? I had asked.

"We're not car doctors," they said. "We preserve life."

My vision swayed and blurred with colors that usually stayed in place to match the surreal doctors who didn't save mechanical things. As I drifted back to the dark, safe unconscious, I wondered if I had become mechanical. Day in, day out doing school, then homework, EMS, homework then sleep. Turn the key to get me started and I would run on empty for miles. What was the key? I started to panic; what if they couldn't fix me? I would never be able to find the key.

I woke up in the most ungraceful of positions. My arms were splayed like those of a clock and I felt like I had been trying to sleep on both my front and my back. John had found his way into my room and collapsed into a chair by my bed. His head was tilted back at an uncomfortable angle and I could see his eyelids flutter. I wondered what dream they were jumping about. He was the palest shade of fear. He reminded me of a baby; the soft contours of his face spoke of innocence and loyalty. I wondered if he had been watching me sleep the same way I was watching him.

He woke with a start, like he had been falling and the wooden folding chair had caught him, scooped him out of the air and rescued him, overcoming its prosaic function with one valiant act. We stared at each other, each shocked to find the other present.

He pulled me from my bed and into his arms. "I thought I had lost you."

I allowed the melodrama and wondered whether he was referring to my confession or my life. Either way was valid but it was a different conversation depending on what he meant.